


Centermost

by Coatcollars



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-30 09:46:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1017118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coatcollars/pseuds/Coatcollars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Make Thursdays awesome. Upset your local DI</p>
    </blockquote>





	Centermost

**Author's Note:**

> Make Thursdays awesome. Upset your local DI

Thursdays were fantastic. They were really actually  _fantastic_  days, given by the heavens above so John Watson could enjoy them. The best things about Thursdays was that they were after Wednesdays. Right in the middle of the week and nobody else payed them any heed. 

Thursdays were practically invisible.

What else was great about Thursdays was the fact the DI had just about cracked three weeks ago, on a Wednesday. The result was that the ever-so-lovely and positively attituded Sherlock Holmes was NOT allowed to the Yard on Thursdays for more than a second.

So when Sherlock had come home, sulking and missing one glove. John had never asked what he actually did to make the DI blow his top, he just smiled like a lioness when the man finally went to the other room. John could now have the busy detective all to himself for a full twenty-four hours.

John knew Sherlock hated Thursdays. They were boring and ‘John this is terrible. I feel  _domestic_.’ So John never told him he was eagerly awaiting them start Friday. 

Now it was finally Thursday morning and he was comfortable in bed with his significant other. And John could not be happier. The detective in thought was now stirring, burrowing back into the space between the mattress and John’s back as if he was trying to avoid the light pouring into the room. John’s mouth pulled into a fond smile and he turned to his side to get a look of his lovers face; the face currently obscured by a bundled up duvet.

"Turn it off." came the small voice.

"I can’t turn off the sun, love." He whispered, putting a hand to mush the fabric down to reveal closed eyes.

There was a squawk, then hands on Johns face, pushing him back until he let go of the blanket and Sherlock had it bundled up again.

John had never said Thursdays were easy.

**Author's Note:**

> *Results may vary


End file.
